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Sunday, March 11, 2012

Stephanie, the Tattoo-Faced Woman, Would Like a Moment of Your Time

From July of 2010...

Have you met Stephanie?

Stephanie lives in my neighborhood. She is the subject of much discussion and many e-mails, some of which come from the police; a distinctly marked woman you can confuse with no other; a woman who has knocked on doors at 2:00 a.m. to ask for money.

I hadn’t seen Stephanie for a while, but I saw her recently.

“Excuse me? Excuse me?”

I look up from my weeding in the front garden. This is not the first time I’ve been interrupted by people asking for money while I’m weeding. I blame it on an alluring combination of stained gardening pants and paint-spattered Elvis-commemorative-stamp tee-shirt.

Drives the peoples wild.

Stephanie de-bikes, leaving it on the sidewalk, and approaches rapidly. “Could I talk to you for a moment, ma’am?" she says. "Ma’am, are you a Christian woman?”

Ah. This is not the first time I’ve heard this approach.

“No,” I said. “Sorry, I’m not.” I go back to my weeding.

This does not deter Stephanie. “Ma’am, do you have some money?”

I stop weeding and sigh ever so slightly. “Yes, I do. Now are you going to ask me to give my money to you?”

“Yes, ma’am, if you could just see your way clear to giving me a couple dollars, I haven’t eaten in two days.”

I look up at her. She doesn’t know that I know where she lives, that I know her last name, that we frequent the same bars. Despite her propensity for begging – Mike bought her two drinks at Mayslack’s just to shut her up about how hard it was for her to find a job now that her face is covered with tattoos – she is a slender, well-dressed married woman who lives in a nice house.

Stephanie may have issues, but not eating isn’t one of them.

“No, I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t have any money. I’m working in my yard.”

“You could run inside,” she offers.

I stare at her.

“You could run inside,” she repeats. “I’ll watch your, uh, your – “

“Spade,” I say. “And I don’t want to run inside.”

She keeps talking. Surely I am a Christian woman? Surely I can see my way to giving her whatever "spare" money I had? Maybe eleven dollars? Do I have eleven dollars to spare?

Persistence is her strong suit.

Eventually my husband comes around the corner.

“Sir? Sir?” Stephanie leaves my side and launches into her speech. Poor Willie has no defenses against brazen women; and after hearing less than a couple lines of her spiel digs into his pockets and gives her two dollars.

And with that, Stephanie jumps on her bike and is gone before you can ask – and feel free to join in here – “Ma’am? Are you a Christian woman?”

She sounds just like some of the cases on my books ;0} Mind you most of them know that asking for money is a no, no, so they just ask for cigarettes instead. If no one can offer them one they raid the smoking bin outside of the reception. As long as they do it on the way out and not before they come in. Nice!

Funny Stephanie!I've met some people who I know have more money and possessions than I, but they go around begging. I think it's a sort of hobby for them...hahaha...Thanks for visiting my site and for the comment.

Christ said, The poor you have with you always.Wonder if that means There's nothing to be done about that!or, Perhaps he could have pointed out that the brazen are much less to be pitied than are the poor.

Pearl, charity is a wonderful attribute. Perhaps you could have deviously turned the tables and begged her to weed for an hour to save your life, and rewarded her with a handful of carrots or some potatoes and a cabbage. That's real food, which she would have undeniably earned, done a good deed, which she also could not deny, increasing her self-esteem, and she would probably be healthier, which is good, and you wouldn't have had to pass off the persistent to your very fortunate hubby, who probably was just hanging around for the opportunity to ogle a cute, slim, tattooed chick though. If she was a terribly lazy tattooed chick, she would have bugged off pretty quick at the suggestion of work....win-win! ":)))

You should have offered her your spade, saying, "Here, you pick up where I left off. I'm in the process of planting a money tree. You keep digging while I go get the sapling and a bucket or so of H2O to water it with. Oh, and fertilizer. Heck Almighty, I forgot to buy some! Hm. You always seem to have plenty to spread. Yeah, we could use some of that!"

Stephanie sounds like a neighbour of mine Lisa but the difference is Lisa is a prostitute and is on drugs and has moments when she will wonder around all the units asking for money for "smokes" which everyone knows means "drugs" and she will do this day and night at all hours. We have been known to shut the door when seeing her walking our way just so we don't have to deal with her......

"she is a slender, well-dressed married woman who lives in a nice house."...I hope she doesn't have any children. And what about her husband?? It sounds like she should be under someone's supervision....ya know....

It's all very well asking whether I have met Stephanie, particularly before you give me details about her. I have met several Stephanies in my long and important life, but still, despite some clues embedded in your somewhat vague description of her, cannot be sure whether I have met her. Was she at Woodstock? I wasn't, so maybe that doesn't help. The possibility exists that I may have met her, and either not been told her name, or forgotten it.In short, I have been kept awake many hours trying to resolve whether I have met her, and still do not know.Is it really important to you that I give a definitive answer?

We dont get that here..thank God! Only once have I been 'touched' like poor Willie. Back when those annoying orange clad, cymbal wielding flower people were everywhere in the big cities. He gave me a weedy little flower then as I turned to walk away asked for a small donation. I pulled my only money from my pocket to show him I had nothing but a ten as I told him I had no change. Before I knew what was going on he snatched it and was gone.......

To me, facial tatooing crosses an invisible line from edgy to kind of wigged out. I always wonder what was on the minds of those folks when they strolled into a tattoo shop and said, "I'd like to get me a tat on my face that will permanently mar my features and cause people to judge me for the rest of my life."

Ballsy doesn't seem worthy of her. That's just downright degenerate, detestable, disgusting. Makes you wonder what goes through her head. You should have told her to bring her bike over and then tell her to hand it over for the money you'll give her. Think that would have changed her mind because she'd have to (gasp!) walk on those two legs of hers? You maybe could have made a buck or two off of selling the bike. :o)